


In This World

by NympheSama



Category: Papillon (2018)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Louis being Louis, M/M, Murder, Soul-Searching, Violence, thoughts and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 16:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19705075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NympheSama/pseuds/NympheSama
Summary: Louis Dega went to prison a petty forger, but now he has to come to terms with a new title; murderer.Now he just has to work out how he feels about that.





	In This World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WillGrammer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillGrammer/gifts).



> Thankyou for your support, and for believing in me <3
> 
> I'm sorry if this doesn't do him justice...
> 
> x My love to you all x

**In This World.**

The rising or setting of the sun was always a sight which I found soothing. Warm, gentle, hopeful and overall; peaceful.

Now, it does nothing for me. I stare into the horizon, the bright sun burning my eyes, though I refuse to look away. I find myself utterly restless within, my heart and my head at war with each other.

I have killed a man.

Funny how a few, harmless forgeries earned me a cell in that godforsaken, soulless place... and yet I could always hold myself above it. I always told myself, I didn’t deserve to be there. I was better than the other filth in that hole, I was educated and certainly prided myself on personal hygiene and appearance better than the lot of them. Save perhaps for...

But all that has changed now. Now, these hands which have only ever known ink, have now known blood... and that isn’t the worst part. The worst part, is knowing that I would not have picked up that knife to protect myself. That fool, did not lose his life for me to save my own skin. No.

I did it for Papi.

It’s a... confusing emotion to come to terms with. Your guilt as a murderer, and the sense of righteousness you feel; for having saved another’s life. Especially when it is someone, who means more to you than they perhaps, rightly should.

Papi has protected my life for years now, and not once did he have to stoop to murder; although, it was a close call sometimes. I find myself disconcerted by his ability to hold true to his own morals, when I could not. How did he do it? Day after day, those uncultured imbeciles would come at me, threaten me... and yet, it took only a word or a look from Papi, and they’d leave me be.

What does that say of me? That I could lose control so completely, when a mere _safe cracker_ can keep his temper and his mind. I shake my head briefly, sucking in a deep breath as I recall the awful event; replaying it again before my eyes, as I already have so many times.

Celier was lost. Mad. The only thing which would have satisfied him, was my blood. I admit I was surprised, to see Maturette fight for me, but perhaps it was more that he recognised Celier’s madness himself and sought to prevent himself from falling to the man’s hand after I myself had.

Papi was... something else. I’ve always admired his determination to spare lives, even the damned wardens, he never wished them dead. Despite his gruff exterior, the man is a quite remarkable specimen of human kind. I’m not sure I met a man so honest, and I’m struck by the irony that we met as convicts. Had we met out in the real world, I very much doubt he would have stood between myself and Celier. As it was, he stood proud; determined. He fought for me, without a flicker of doubt... despite having always been on good terms with Celier; something which could hardly be said of ourselves. Honestly, I think he wanted to kick my ass as much as everyone else when we first met.

Funny how the things we thought we knew, can change so easily; sometimes even without our notice. For whatever reason, Papi was willing to give his life defending mine. He was losing. Drowning, choking... and all I could do was sit and watch; like I had always sat back and watched him fight for my life. Except, then I spotted Celier’s knife.

Reaching for it without taking my eyes from Papi, terrified I might look away for a half second too long; and miss that fatal moment where his eyes turned blank, or he took his final gasp of air. My fingers found the poor excuse of a weapon after only brief, blind fumbling, clutching at the rough handle tightly. My legs shook as I half rose to a crouch, keeping low as I crept around them, my eyes darting between their faces urgently. Papi’s face was filled with pain and yet still more determination, as he continued to fight as much as he was able; while Celier’s face was twisted by rage and hatred, though I strongly suspected the latter was directed towards myself. As I circled behind them, I glanced down to see Papi spit out a mouthful of water, his expression touched by the first tinge of fear. I felt my hand curl tighter around the crude blades handle, a snarl curling my lip as I straightened and launched myself at Celier’s unguarded back.

The blade bit deep, the handle pressing hard to the man’s back as he flinched and looked back at me in disbelief. I grimaced, pulling the knife free; only to lunge forward again without pausing for breath. My hand ached, my heart raced; and all I could see was Papi, pinned down and choking, at a former ‘friends’ mercy. I couldn’t say if it was my own rage which blinded me, or my hate for Celier’s madness; the betrayal of Papi’s trust, which I had seen coming before we had even left that awful prison, and had tried to warn him about.

Resentment ate at me. Why hadn’t Papi listened? Why had he insisted so stubbornly that the man was trustworthy?

I’d once thought myself above this man, but as time passed, I realised I had judged him too quickly. Almost every interaction we’ve ever shared, has made me view him differently in some way and even with two years of separation while he was in solitary... he’s come to mean too much for me to lose him again.

I fuelled my rage, my hatred; burying Celier’s own knife into him, over and over, and over again. How could he have turned on Papi, just for being the same, surprisingly honourable man he’d always been? When Celier turned, I snarled, slamming the blade into the side of his throat with a hateful sneer, barely aware of Papi as he struggled for breath and stared at me in awe and disbelief.

For once, I fought back. For once, I had saved him... and this time, it was a more permanent save than the Coconuts which had been discovered while he was in solitary.

Celier’s eyes were glazed with disbelief, the life already fading from them as he met my gaze. _You killed me._ His eyes screamed at me, and in return; I screamed wordlessly at him. Still, I continued to thrust the blade into him. The self loathing, the hatred, the intense need to end this man’s life and prevent him from hurting the one who, without my consent, had come to mean so much to me.

“Dega!” Papi’s voice usually soothed me, the gravelly tones easing my nerves and calming my insecurities. This time, his voice fanned the flames of my rage. “Stop!” He pleaded, his expression twisted with grief as I screamed inarticulately again. “Enough..!” He called, his arms cocooning me from behind, his face resting against my shoulder as he tried to pull me away; despite my attempts to keep going. “That’s enough...” He said voice and words low in my ear, as he pulled me back to his chest and away from Celier.

Feeling the heavy rise and fall of his chest at my back, his hands looped before me as he rasped for breath; the haze of fury began to clear. Reality settled in. I could feel Papi’s arms, circling my shoulders and my eyes cleared; recognising the bloodied mess of Celier’s body, the mess I had made of it, as I took his life. The world stopped, for several heartbeats. I was now a murderer, as well as a petty forger.

The difference was striking.

I’m still not sure what I expected, but it surely wasn’t the softness with which Papi eased the knife from my hand. The way he continued to hold me as I shook and trembled against him, the shock setting in with the adrenaline fading. I suppose I expected to feel guilt, some form of repentance, perhaps? But truthfully, I felt nothing. A cold numbness and a sense of grim determination that I had done right.

Now, as I sit staring into the light, I still can’t bring myself to feel regret. Papi would never have let Celier hurt me while he drew breath, and Celier wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him, to get to me. I consider the exchange to be favourable.

I hear him approach, and I know I should be ashamed of the flutter in my heart, but I just don’t have the strength of will to fight it. He hesitates, as I massage my leg; which I suspect will never heal right. I can already tell what he’s going to say. I want to spring to his side and promise to stay there, but the pain in my leg and ankle remind me that I will do nothing to aide him, and everything to slow him down.

“We need to keep moving.” He says quietly, and my heart warms to think he truly thinks I can go with him, that he expects me to even. I can’t bring myself to look at him yet, I know one look will be my undoing, and I will submit to his will entirely. I open my mouth to protest, but he beats me to it, his voice low with warning. “They know where we came from.”

The words give me pause. How could they know? Have there in fact, been others who have escaped? Nevertheless, I cannot let myself be dissuaded. “Our deal is done.” I say with forced finality, proud of myself for the detachment in my tone, as I keep my eyes on the horizon. I can feel his eyes on my, can sense his confusion and his hurt; and it only serves to fuel my own frustration. “I told you, we couldn’t trust him.” I bite out, gritting my teeth as his face falls with guilt, refusing to take the deliberately hurtful words back.

Silence reigns over us for a long pause, as Papi struggles to find the words he seeks. I can feel the fight drain out of him beside me, his shoulders falling as he turns to stare at the horizon with me. “I’m leaving.” He says, as if I don’t already know... but it’s his next words which cause my heart to stop, and my blood to freeze in my veins. “With, or without you.”

He’s looking at me, I can feel it; and this time there’s no resisting. I turn slowly, our eyes sharing an entire conversation despite our silence. I hope to hide my desire to go with him, so after an intense few seconds, I turn back to the sun on the horizon. The sun holds no comfort for me now, as his eyes leave me, his disappointment palpable in the thick air around us. I cast my eyes away, anywhere but where he is as he rises to his feet dejectedly. “Good luck.” He says, as I keep my face averted from him, determined to hide the pain I feel at this inevitable separation.

I hear his footsteps pause at the door, and then he’s gone. Perhaps the only person I’ve met in my life, who has been consistently honest and dependable, and I’ve let him walk away without ever telling him of my gratitude or my feelings. I can’t tell if I should be proud, or cry for my cowardice. I decide I’ve had enough of the sun, and I turn and clumsily find my feet, grimacing at the sharp pain from my injured leg. I hobble to what I assume is a bed, and lay myself down, content to stare blankly at the ceiling, as the blessed numbness begins to spread through me.

I think I doze for a time, because I jolt awake at the sound of harsh footfalls on the hard floor beneath me, rough hands gripping at my shoulders. “We’re leaving!” He growls, as I stare in shock and awe; having expected this man to have been far gone by now. I want to ask what he’s doing back, but the urgency of his movements take me by surprise, and he’s speaking again before I get the chance. “Now!” He orders, as he yanks my arm around his shoulder and tugs me to my feet roughly.

“Ah!” I gasp, grimacing at the pain, but too startled to complain. I hobble along beside him as best I can, confused but trusting him. He wouldn’t be trembling beneath my arm if there weren’t something seriously wrong. He rushes me outside, and if I weren’t so damn busy trying not to trip us both up I would demand he tell me what the hell is going on.

I’m just about to finally voice my thoughts, when Maturette races toward us. My eyes find him as Papi calls to him; the sound of a gunshot killing the greeting and questions which sat on his tongue, Maturette’s body falling just a short distance from our feet. I’m still stunned by the unfolding events, not quite up to speed with just what’s happening; when Papi grunts from the hard strike of a gun butt to his jaw.

“Argh!” I growl as we hit the floor, pain spearing through my leg as our hands are wrestled behind our backs. I grit my teeth and struggle futilely, more concerned about the foot pinning Papi to the ground than the gun to my back as I watch him struggle. The world around me fades, the shock of this devastating twist of events dulled, beneath my awe at a single realisation. As the nun speaks to us, I stare at him, my heart warming for the first time since I picked up Celier’s knife. He looks over as he continues to struggle weakly, his eyes meeting mine with grief as I lay still. His eyes flick over me in concern, and my throat tightens, the words rising without permission and spilling from my lips. “You came back.”

Perhaps it is the awe, the surprise which does it, but the fight abruptly leaves him. Resignation fills his gaze, as he sighs slowly; as much of a confession as any words could be. My heart swells, constricts and withers all in one as his eyes close. I’ve killed for this man, and I know in that moment that I would do it a hundred times more without regret, if it bought him what he most needs.

There’s to be no freedom however. We are yanked to our feet and thrown roughly into the back of a truck, taken back to the hell which we’d thought we’d escaped. Papi is taken away to solitary confinement without hesitation, though he struggles to resist, trying in vain to stay near to me for as long as he is able. When he’s gone, the warden turns to me, his disappointment at my betrayal clear in the hard set of his face. “Tell me they forced you... and I’ll put you back on your regular duties.” He says, as I blink slowly in surprise. “You’ll keep your privileges. You’ll be allowed to keep clean, and be healthy. We can even see about fixing your leg.”

I can’t think what they would gain from such a bargain, but it doesn’t matter. I know my choice already. I blink slowly again, and draw in a deep breath; the better to spit in the wardens face. He flinches, and slowly draws a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his face as I glare at him. “Very well.” He says, almost chuckling with amusement, as he shakes his head at me. “Take him straight to Devil’s Island.” He sneers, as if he’s punishing me, his expression hard as he looks down at me in confusion. “Was it worth it? Trading your position, for what? Friendship?” He scoffs, though his demeanour falters when I smile slowly.

“Always.” I reply, laughing quietly at the frustrated scowl on the warden’s face. I’m no longer scared of these men as they take me away, I know I’ve no need to be. I may have a five year head start, but I’m heading to the same place that Papi will be after his containment. I know that I’ll see him again, and I know that when that time comes, I’ll feel no less proud or honoured to have become his friend and more, to have become someone who he would risk his most prized freedom to rescue.

I take a deep breath, and hobble after my guards, as I prepare myself for the long wait.


End file.
